


Drift

by Clementine19



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Negotiated kink, choke kink, definitely some versatility on these two, i wrote this over the course of one dull as fuck workday and refuse to edit it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26997907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clementine19/pseuds/Clementine19
Summary: For a prompt for the100 kinks meme.23 & 60; breathplay & dirty talk.I set this in Jackson, 2033ish, because I’m a slut for established Joel/Reader.It’s fantasy. Run with the idea that you could know each other so well and be so open to experience that there’s no risk of harm. THAT SAID, read the end notes if you're entertaining experimenting with this. Be safe out there.
Relationships: Joel (The Last of Us)/Reader, Joel/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	Drift

Joel means to pin your shoulder, heel of his hand on your collarbone when it slips, wrought by your wriggling under him and the consistent slam of his hips as he pounds into you, legs around his waist and back driving into the bed with each impact.

You cough with surprise as he strikes the bottom of your larynx, immediately springing off of you since at least half of his body weight definitely landed. You see stars and your head feels murky enough that you’re still thrusting weakly even as he withdraws.

“Shit, you alright?” he asks, warm drawl drawing you back to him, pads of his thumbs fluttering over your neck.

You take a slow breath and blink at him, his hand coming up to your face.

“You ever try that before?” you query curiously, Joel on his knees at the edge of the bed.

“A little bit, with better aim,” he admits after a pause. You scrape your fingernails through his beard on one side, considering him.

Joel can still be shy of confessing previous experiences (as if you’d care where he’d been) and the heat in his face is beyond endearing. You won’t poke, but you’re so in love with everything to do with him that you can’t help but imagining attempts in his youth. Was it before the outbreak? You can’t imagine him seeking out physical stress after, but if the way you’d dismantle the house when he’d return from a particularly frightening patrol was any indication, this was a perfect space for him to process in. He’s agile and strong, far shy of his years, and it wasn’t uncommon to pass hours at a time learning each other and testing your boundaries. Mostly, thinking about your very separate pasts makes you wish you’d met him decades ago, not to detract from how good your ardent catching-up has been.

“What if I want you to do it again?” you ask quietly.

Joel’s eyes dart all over your face like he’s trying to collect more data on the simple request. He looks thoughtful for a minute. Maybe it’s just endorphins thrumming through you, but you love this face on him. Perhaps just love his face, defined features setting deeper when he’s focused.

“Can I ask why?”

Your sweat is starting to cool and he moves to join you on the bed, hand brushing your thigh repeatedly as he asks the question.

“I trust you and it feels good to see stars,” you shrug and he chuffs a laugh. “You?”

“Want to make you come as hard as I possibly can?” he tries.

“Then put your hands back on me, Joel,” you say, satisfied.

Where you’d usually get a haughty ‘yes ma’am,’ Joel moves slowly instead, kissing you like he did when this had started the first time, downstairs, rolling you under him without resistance. He kisses your neck, grazing with his teeth, stroking your chest with open palms as he works.

“Come here,” he speaks slowly, reorienting you to straddle him, hand on your sternum.

“Afraid of your own strength?” you snip at him, derisive curl to your mouth.

“Baby doll, I’ll make you fuckin’ terrified of it if you don’t shut up and take it,” he growls and you smile in satisfaction you can’t hide, his voice rolling through you as he guides his stunningly hard length in.

You’re already sore from starting at the bottom of the stairs and had made it exceptionally challenging for him to muscle you into bed from there, hence his attempt to pin you. His cock stretches you to what feels like a limit and he sighs before running his left hand flat up your chest. Taking him in laid out like this never gets old, defined musculature and spattering of scars assuredly solid beneath you.

“Arrogant—” you get out, his hand closing on either side of your neck, pressure flooding between your ears until you taste stars. You’ve stopped being able to ride him so he takes over, taking you from beneath with just as much command as any other way he’d have you.

You break the first layer of skin with your fingernails on his forearm, gripping for purchase even as his other hand holds you perfectly fast. Joel hisses in displeasure—it’s too warm for long sleeves and he can already _hear_ Ellie barreling past his boundaries with her questions.

“More,” you try to breathe, actually closer to mouthing it out. He can _try_ to be cautious, but he only has so much restraint when you beg.

“Doesn’t feel like you need more,” Joel comments, watching you with dark eyes as you feel his right hand inch towards your center. His hand hovers just above your slit, thumb ready to smooth through your folds with his left hand flexing around your neck, mindful of your windpipe.

You’re pulsing over him, hips rocking near-mechanically as your head spins. You’d feel entirely untethered if his hands didn’t press into your skin with total familiarity, even in this new way. Joel could do anything to you, and the acceptance of that absolute fact clicks into place as he watches you with his entire focus.

“You gonna come for me?” he rumbles, balancing on his arm behind him to come level with your face, watching your eyes and brushing his mouth against yours. He eases up the pressure on your throat so you can answer, immediately strumming over your clit with his thumb to keep you submerged in feeling.

“Not your best effort,” you snarl and Joel’s eyes flare, flipping you harshly to your stomach and slamming back inside of you in one vicious thrust. There’s no real ego to contend with outside of bed, but he meets your playful critiques with raw demonstration like this _every single time._ Luckily, all you ever want is for him to prove how perfectly he can rise to your challenges, the same as you do for his.

Joel’s forearms wrap around your front, arcing your back up acutely towards him, exposing your neck so he can watch where his hand falls. Completely pinned, his thrusts almost rattle you into fragments, mouth slack and eyes rolling with the renewed, stronger pressure around your throat. You soak in the sensation of his hard chest against your back, tough calluses burrowing into the delicate skin of your throat and chest.

Joel curls over you and bites the tip of your ear harder than he needs to, making you squirm. You’re too far under to smile but he can read your placid face as utterly content, messily placing a kiss at the corner of your mouth as he plows into you.

You make quiet, suppressed noises as you start to drift, shivering to the edges of your limbs as you begin to come.

“That’s it,” Joel encourages, a smile starting to break as he tries to gather you closer. He’s cocky about this and you’re lying when you say it doesn’t spur you. Squeezing his eyes shut to feel your strained, extended pulses around his cock, he releases your neck when they begin to run together and smooth out.

You cry out without any definition to the sound, Joel holding you up against him, both your thighs slick from your efforts. It sounds a little like you’re sobbing but Joel sits back, not pulling out of you, to let you ride through it in his lap. When air bursts through your chest in normal circuits at least ten times, you turn just to be instantly captured, his mouth ravenous on yours, hips anxiously flexing below you.

You pull off of him and put your knees down on either side of his hips. “Get on your back,” you say, hearing how hoarse you sound now as you shove him onto his back.

“Dunno what you think you’re doing, still shivering like that,” Joel teases, broad hand tucking your hair behind your ear as another aftershock rolls through your core.

“Joel, shut up,” you say, sheathing him inside you and taking his throat in hand. It clearly surprises him by the way his chest expands immediately, eyes going wide.

You’re shaking still but know he’s close enough that this won’t be long. His hand flies to your wrist on instinct and he grips it like an anchor, surrendering to being ridden with his usual victorious air.

Joel doesn’t—or can’t— make a sound as he finishes deep inside of you, hips lifting you both off the bed with this desperate expression on his handsome features that you hope you remember for the rest of your life. It looks like he would be pleading if he could, taken aback by the pull of deliriously spaced pleasure coming in hot waves every few long seconds.

You lift your hand as he starts to slacken, allowing with it a soft moan that you’d never heard the likes of before. Well beyond your ability to stay upright before, you collapse onto his chest and feel a low chuckle begin in his abdomen. You tilt your head up sharply, peering at him.

“Wha—I,” Joel laughs and covers his face with one hand. You crawl up his chest to kiss him, curling into his warmth.

He keeps opening his mouth like he’s going to speak but just readjusts each time he tries. You look up into hazel eyes you never get tired of taking in, content in a mutual appreciation for shared silence. Joel winds your fingers together and rests your hands over his heart, pulse still trying to tell him he’s in danger as you tug the sheets up over you.

“Fuck, oh,” Joel purses his lips, untangling his hand to brush over your bruised neck. “Hell.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it,” you wave off.

“Not worried about that—you ‘right?” the sincere nervousness in his tone is reaffirming. The fact that he enjoyed leaving possessive bites all over you didn’t extend to accidentally bruising you _this much._

“Stop fussing,” you complain, kissing him, tugging lightly on mostly black, grey-streaked hair.

“Nope, c’mon,” he pulls back from you, scrambling out of bed. You look up at him expectantly.

“Or stay,” he assents, returning after a rapid hammering of footsteps to the kitchen with a towel full of ice. His own neck is flecked with semicircular wounds instead of pressure marks, but he shrugs it off as he passes the mirror in the hallway, knees shakier than he’d have expected.

Returning to your waiting arms and wreathing your collarbones in the towel, you both settle against the headboard and watch the early evening light creep over Jackson from his bedroom window.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, okay: Joel spends two games super effectively snapping hyoid bones so he’s DEFINITELY not going to be stupid about this or unaware of how easy it is to kill someone, and nor should you! 
> 
> Don’t put pressure on someone’s larynx. You can snap that shit. Please, please read up on safe practice, talk to your partner(s), keep shears/charged phones/first aid kits nearby. 
> 
> Here’s a decent resource Consent is key, have fun, and please educate yourselves so nobody gets hurt.
> 
> Prompt me over at [the ol' tumbs](https://joelmillerthirstqz.tumblr.com/)


End file.
